


An axe to grind

by soldiermom1973



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendly competition, Gen, Lumberjack, Manly Men, Skyhold, chopping wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldiermom1973/pseuds/soldiermom1973
Summary: Remy Lavellan stumbles upon a friendly contest between two of her friends.





	An axe to grind

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles. Sorry.
> 
> Saw [this fantastic piece of fan art](https://chatnoir-art.tumblr.com/post/172838276654/axe-in-hand-a-pile-of-cleaved-logs-to-his-left) over on Facebook and instantly thought of the Lumberjack Blackwall fan art I've seen. I pictured the two of them having a friendly contest regarding their woodchopping skills. This is the result. I'm actually fairly happy with this (which is weird because I am my own worst critic).
> 
> You can read it on tumblr [here](http://soldiermom1973.tumblr.com/post/172885194778/chatnoir-art-axe-in-hand-a-pile-of-cleaved-logs), too, if you're inclined to give it a reblog.

Remy wandered through the keep, striking up polite conversation with the refugees who continued to pour into Skyhold. She was carefully making her way to the training yard – something she did every day under the guise of 'observation' and 'supervision', but the truth was she just wanted to watch Commander Rutherford at work.

The man was a force to be reckoned with both in the field and during training exercises. His booming voice carried a tone of confidence that was hard to ignore or disobey. The Inquisitor would often lean against the wooden fence and watch, careful to pay attention to the other soldiers, too, so as not to stir up any rumors about her feelings for the former Templar.

She was surprised – and not a little disappointed – to find the yard empty. The few soldiers milling about pointed her in the direction of the stable, saying something about Cullen offering to help get the firewood stores replenished.

“The mages say there is a terrible storm coming, my lady,” one of them said. “A lot of snow and the keep's wood pile is not what it should be. The Commander ordered several of us to help chop wood so things would be ready.”

Remy tried to keep the giddy excitement from her voice when she thanked the men, eager to see if Cullen would have an ax in hand, but she had a feeling she failed when they looked at each other and gave her a knowing nod. She forced herself to walk at a normal pace toward the stables but quickened her step when she heard the familiar sound of axes making contact with wood.

She cleared the steps, rounded the corner, and froze, her heart hammering in her chest. In the small clearing outside of the stable stood both Blackwall and Cullen, shirtless and sweaty, swinging their hatchets for all they were worth. A small crowd had gathered around them and Remy could see coin passing hands.

“Excuse me,” she snagged the nearest person, “what's going on here?”

The woman didn't even look at the Inquisitor when she answered. She seemed just as enthralled by the manly display as Remy was. “Apparently Commander Rutherford was here chopping wood with his soldiers when the Warden announced he would show them how it was done. They're pretty much neck in neck now, but I believe Warden Blackwall may have gotten through more lumber than the Commander.”

“Thank you,” Remy murmured, unable to tear her eyes away.

She had never seen either man bare chested before, though she did imagine what Cullen would look like. She wasn't disappointed, either – sweat glistened along his pecs and chiseled abs. His hair was a tousled mess of blonde curls and his pants hung low enough at his hips as to show just a hint of his hips. His arms flexed and moved with each swing of his ax. His face was pure concentration, focused on his movements. Remy quickly noticed he seemed to be chanting something as he worked. Perhaps some kind of cadence like he sang when he ran with his troop.

Warden Blackwall, on the other hand, was a barrel-chested mountain of a man. He had pulled his hair back in a ponytail and for the first time, Remy noticed the grey that tinged the hair at his temples. His torso had a thick mat of curly hair on it - not quite enough to confuse him with a bear but enough for Remy to surprise herself by wondering if it was as soft as it looked. His muscles also weren't sculpted like Cullen's were, but that didn't make him any less powerful. His arms were as big as Remy's thighs and his biceps flexed and twitched with each swing of his ax. Where Cullen was focused and concentrating, Blackwall was smiling and cracking jokes. “Having trouble keeping up, youngster?” he teased.

“You worry about your own pile, old man,” Cullen huffed in reply.

The crowd laughed as each man continued to make quick work of the wood that needed prepared for the keeps fires. Before she knew it, Remy's feet had taken her to the front of the crowd, where she stood transfixed at the sight of two of the most beautiful things she'd ever laid eyes on. She had never considered Blackwall as anything more than a friend; certainly nothing to occupy her mind at night like Cullen did. This contest, though, might have her reconsider the light in which she viewed the Warden. Her jaw was agape and she honestly didn't care. She knew she was going to need a very cold bath after this display.

“Careful, Commander,” Blackwall joked when he noticed her. “We have a very captive audience.”

For the first time since Remy started watching, Cullen faltered when he glanced up and saw her staring His swing missed and glanced off the chunk of wood, spraying splinters into the crowd. Each man stopped to make sure everyone was ok, then Blackwall laughed. The sound was deep and Remy's eyes were drawn to his stomach as his abs contracted with his mirth.

“I'd say I won that round, eh, Commander?” Blackwall's eyes twinkled as he held out his hand.

Cullen accepted the handshake and rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed at being bested in front of so many people, including his own troops. He glanced at Remy again, his face turning a brilliant shade of red that the Inquisitor somehow knew wasn't from the physical exertion he just went through. A small smile played at her lips and only broadened when Blackwall caught her eye and winked.

“Maker's breath,” a soft voice said from behind her. “That was a crude demonstration of muscle and power and I believe I shall have to revisit it later this evening.”

“You and me both, Dorian,” Remy sighed. Not only was the competition nice to watch, the view she had of the two men walking away wasn't bad, either.

“You and me both.”


End file.
